the future is a time that hasn’t presented itself yet always mysteriously just out of eyesight every minute we take the next steps into an unknown the unexpected without a to-do list our present excitedly seeking resolution on past laid plans in the tomorrows still to come endless possibilities layering into eternity
the eternal question of what’s next
Originally published September 8, 2018 on I Write Her. Posted here with revisions.
My box of words
Choosing and stockpiling
I take inventory.
I tuck them away
in my little treasure box
lined with memories
aging and gnarled
the edges curling.
filled with promise.
Choosing the right ones
is a challenging
not always accomplished
Copyright (C) Penny Wilson
M. A Morris does such an amazing job describing the chaos of thinking and what the lack of communication can do to your being. I’m betting so many have been in the place her words expose in this piece. I know I have, this piece struck deep for me.
I Words scattered across the page. Words littering the soul.
All these words Piled upon the table, A hoarder’s table of words.
Words left unsaid, Unwritten, A bouquet of words Wilting in the heart and mind.
Words twisted in contortionist meaning Of manipulations, Weaponized for destruction, Yet leaving victims living. II Words of things that can’t be said. Words of things that should have been. Words of things we could not speak out of fears too deep. Words of things we could not begin to understand Of ourselves, of each other. Words of things we wanted so to believe Of others, of the world. Words of hope Of love Of charity Of peace. Words of what we have lost. Words of what we may never…